I never used to
like that term. I mean really—everyone has "special needs" in some form
or another. I learn best through hearing and doing, my son through
seeing things first-hand. My husband can remember anything read to him,
but I have to read it for myself if I want to retain the information.
Isn't that a "special need"? During my years as a tutor for children
with learning disabilities like dyslexia, dyspraxia, ADD, ADHD, etc., I
accepted the fact that learning disabilities are real—they are as
tangible as a physical handicap and can be just as debilitating.

When you tried
without success to learn to tie your shoes, your mother might have
quoted the old adage, "Can't never tried." When you did your best but
just couldn't master writing a cursive "Q", you might have been
encouraged to practice more. Eventually you learned to tie your shoes
and can even make a cursive "Q" if the need arises. But if you were
born with a learning or physical disability, these tasks create special
circumstances that require understanding, patience, empathy and
creativity. You are a special needs child.

Always one to
search out an answer to any problem, I came up with creative ways to
teach reading to dyslexics, handwriting skills to dysgraphics, and
multiplication facts to ADD kids while they were bounding on a
mini-trampoline. As the teacher, we could and would overcome any
obstacle! However inspiring, my enthusiasm and optimism kept the
emotional side of these issues at arms length. The ways things are is
just the way things are. Why cry over spilled milk?

It wasn't until
our Luke was diagnosed with severe apraxia and sensory integration
dysfunction that I learned just how devastating a disability can be to
a parent. No matter what the training, vocation or preparation, there
is nothing like realizing your child will never be "normal" Luke is
facing at least one surgery to correct weak eye muscles associated with
apraxia. He has problems with his feet that require braces in his
shoes. He might need hip surgery to correct dysplasia. He has a genetic
heart condition that might need corrective surgery. Our three older
children are "perfect"—no physical disabilities whatsoever. I felt like
I had been hit by a speeding car that came out of no where.

When I finally
accepted the fact that Luke isn't "normal" like our other children, I
cried for 3 weeks. I mourned all the things he could not, and perhaps
would not, ever be able to do. He is our 3rd boy—he was going to be the
fourth part in Daddy's own little men's quartet! We are a family of
singers and he isn't going to be able to speak as others do! How will
he earn a living? Will there ever be that special someone to love and
accept him as he is? "Lord, this is a mistake—I'm sorry but You just
have to 'fix' it." That was my hearts cry.

Luke is our
youngest and I often compare having a special needs child to being a
first-time parent all over again. Only this time I realize how
unprepared I am—how inadequate I am. I am wise enough to know that I
alone am not enough for him to succeed in life. I suspect it is like
this with most parents. We want what IS best for our children in
combination with what we THINK is best for them. When we realize that
our idea of "best" isn't ever going to be accomplished we fall apart.
Our visions are crushed, our Utopia collapses. Dreams of little Johnny
being another National Spelling Bee champion or winning the Nobel Prize
are gone. He will never win an Olympic Gold Medal or earn a National
Merit Scholarship. He won't grow up to build houses or mend fence or
follow Grandpa and Daddy into the Army, Navy, or Marines. We feel as
though a life has ended—the life of who we wanted our child to be
doesn't exist anymore.

In this respect,
having a child with special needs isn't that much different than having
a "normal" child. We just have to face the music sooner that they are
their own persons—created as they are with unique giftings and
interests only their own. We have to come to terms with the Lord's plan
for their lives and trade that in for our own desires for their future.
Without Luke I think I would have faced this end of dreams as most
people do when our children don't go down the path we plan for them:
when they leave our home for their own, or take a road we would not
wish them to travel.

As if dealing
with the special physical, emotional and educational needs isn't
enough, the plot thickens if you are a homeschooling parent. You are
faced with the haunting suspicion that you just might not be your
child's best teacher. Maybe this fear re-surfaces from when you began
walking the homeschool path. Perhaps it is brand-new for you and
frightening in the largest sense of the word. We wrestle with the "Am I
qualified to teach him?" questions. Socialization might be an issue
once again.

What do I do now?
What about . . . ? I don't know how to . . ! What if . . . ?

The answers to
these quandaries lie exactly where they did when we first battled them.
They were there when we first found out we were going to be parents;
when we held our little one for the first time, when we began to think
about homeschooling him, when the reality of kidnappings and terrorism
first ricocheted across our minds. This poem by Annie Flint has
ministered to my heart over and over again in the dark hours of
discouragement and inadequacy. For those of us with special needs
children it holds a depth of meaning and poignancy I haven't found
elsewhere.

He gives more grace when the burdens grow
greater.
He sends more strength when the labors increase,
To added affliction He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace.
When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed 'ere the day is half done;
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father's full giving is only begun.
His love has no limit, His grace has no measure.
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth and giveth and giveth again."
- Annie Flint

There are always
questions and doubtings lying at the beginning of life's unknowns.
Peace comes when we realize that the answers lie down the path a little
way. And, just like faith, you will only find them if you forge
ahead—sight unseen.

At
the
time of this writing, our
youngest son Luke has been diagnosed with a severe articulation
disorder: verbal/oral apraxia. In a nutshell, he
has a vocabulary of 6-10 words and is now communicating mostly through
sign language. He will be 3 in March 2004 and should be speaking many
more words and even some two words "sentences". He is not. This
isn't a case of delayed speech, or of laziness, sibling interference or
any of the other well-meaning suggested given by family and friends.
This is a condition that will take months - possibly years - of
intensive therapy to correct.As soon as
we received a referral from our pediatrician to have his
speech delay investigated, we contacted our local Early Intervention
Program. In Missouri it is called, First Steps. I have been so
wonderfully pleased with the decision to do this. From this one contact
LUke has been evaluated by 4 professionals in four different ares. He
was diagnosed with Dysfunction of Sensory Integration as well as Oral
Apraxia. All of my fears about having someone "from the state" come
into our home were put to rest during our very first meeting. My
husband and I had and HAVE complete and absolute control over what
happens with Luke. This includes the amount of therapy he recieves,
where he recieves it, and who delivers it. What a blessing! I admit,
when I first
realized that something might be "wrong" with Luke I was terrified.
That passed quickly to anger at the unfairness of it. Our other 3
children were fine - why Luke? Then guilt - had I taken some medication
during the pregnancy that had caused this disorder? I should have eaten
better, exercised more, take a better quality vitamin supplement,
reduced the stress in my life...and on and on it went. Right now, I have
peace about whatever it is that God has planned for Luke. Obviously
this speech delay plays an important role in his place in the world.
And undoubtedly it is having a huge impact on the lives of his family.
I probably won't know why Luke's speech has been challenged until I get
to heaven. But that's OK. All I NEED to know is that Luke is no less my
child today than he was before the diagnosis. I love him even more. . .
and a year ago I didn't think that was possible. Talk to me again in a
year - I have hopes of sharing more impossiblities-come-true.

One Year Later:Well, as I
mentioned in the articel above, I have impossibilities to tell you
about! Luke is now almost entirely free of his sensory integration
dysfunction! His speech, though still not completely intelligible, is
MUCH better. Even some people outside our family circle can understand
him! Praise the Lord!

Since then too,
Luke has been diagnosed as autistic. Here too the Lord has worked
miracles! We discovered gluten and casein free living which brought
huge strides in Luke's behavior and speech. Then through some research
we discoverd the wonderful world of enzyme therapy. That's a fancy way
of saying that we learned "WHY" Luke can't digest gluten (from wheat,
etc.) or casein (found in milk and dairy products). This is founded
research my friends! Do NOT brush it off as a "fad" . It most certainly
is NOT. For awhile now Luke
has been eating enzymes with his
evening meal. He sleeps better because his digestive system isn't
burdened by the gluten and casein he can now eat. This isn't nearly as
complicated as it sounds here but it does deserve it's own page! That
page will be up and running within the month.

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